


You're Going to be Okay

by drunkholland



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Genre: Basically it can be whatever you want it to be, Could be Harrison Osterfield/Reader if you squint, Could be Tom Holland/Harrison Osterfield if you squint, Could be Tom Holland/Reader if you squint, Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Reader because I'm obsessed with my major, Emotional, Go crazy, Harrison Osterfield is a good bro, Poor Tom, Sad, Sickfic, This might be bad idk i was bored, Tom Holland Needs a Hug, Tom Holland is a mama's boy, emetophobia warning, i wrote this in one day, v emotional, vomiting warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkholland/pseuds/drunkholland
Summary: You are a set medic on the crew of Spider-Man: Far From Home. One night, Tom falls extremely ill, and you, Harrison, and your boss spend the night trying to decide whether or not he should go to the hospital. Tom calls his mom because he's a miserable mama's boy. Everyone gets a little emotional.
Relationships: Harrison Osterfield & Reader, Tom Holland & Harrison Osterfield, Tom Holland (Actor) & Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	You're Going to be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy this is really bad :-) i wrote it in like a day but i've had this idea for a really long time. end goal for me is to be a doctor or some form of medic so this was really fun for me to write hahaha but i don't know how people who aren't obsessed with the medical field will feel about this so maybe it's boring maybe it's still interesting??? fun times!!!! anyways enjoy!!!! also this has no real plot yay

It was almost perfect that my boss called me at the very moment I settled into my hotel bed with a glass of red wine. I groaned, but was still ready to answer, as I was a set medic on the crew of the new Spider-Man movie and my boss calling me at this hour most likely meant that my attention was needed for someone in the cast or crew.

"Hey, James," I said, already getting out of bed. On the bright side, I wouldn't have to leave the hotel because we were all staying in a block of rooms. On the downside, I had no idea what was going on or how long I would be out.

"Hey, Y/N, would you mind coming to Tom's room with your kit? It's rather urgent," he said quietly. My stomach knotted a little. What happened to Tom? Surely if it was something serious they would have called 911 first.

"Yeah, of course, I can be on my way in just a second. What happened?" I asked, scrambling for my med kit. I threw my hair up into a bun and didn't even bother to change out of my pajamas.

"He's just not feeling well at all. He definitely has a fever, and he appears to be in a lot of pain," he swallowed, "we're worried he might have to go to the hospital, but we want you to come and check first."

"Oh, gosh, yeah, I'm leaving now," I said truthfully, opening up my door and heading towards the elevators.

"Great, thank you. Room 1103," he said gratefully.

"Gotcha. See you in a second," I said, entering the elevator and hitting the button for floor 11 before hanging up. I tapped my foot, anxiously wishing the elevator could go faster. But I had to remind myself that I was the medical professional here, and that I was not to panic.

I often had to remind myself of that. Working as a set medic gets you attached to the people you work with; you become friends more than patients because of the copious, crazy hours you spend together for several months at a time. When something happens to one of them, it's easy to let the fear in my heart guide my actions over the knowledge in my brain. Tom was no exception to this. He was by far one of the sweetest people I've ever worked with; you couldn't not have a soft spot for him. I'd quickly adjusted to him being injured because he has many stunts and is a very accident prone man, but to think of him suffering and in pain due to illness was something new and rather intimidating to me. Nonetheless, I knew that it was my job to treat him, and I knew I was qualified to do so. So I had to be a professional first, then be his friend later.

The elevator opened much slower than I'd preferred, and I made a beeline for the third door on the right marked 1103, not even bothering to knock. I opened the door up to Tom's best friend, Harrison, and my boss, James, towering over a barely conscious Tom, who was laying not on his king-sized bed, but on the tiny pull out couch against the wall.

And boy, did he look rough. There wasn't an ounce of color in his face except for his cheeks, which were flaming red. His eyes were droopy and lined with water. His lips were swollen, presumably as a result of the half-filled trash can that laid at his side. He was the visual representation of the word miserable, and I couldn't stand to see it. I turned to Harrison and James.

"He rang his Mum earlier, she's coming in the morning. He really feels horrible," Harrison said, his eyes laced with worry. James appeared concerned too, although he did a better job at hiding it. He simply stood by Tom's side, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. I smiled kindly and placed my hand on Harrison's shoulder.

"It's most likely a stomach bug or an infection. The stomach bug will pass, and if it's an infection we'll get him in and out of the hospital with some antibiotics. Either way, he'll be okay in a couple days. Just let me take a look at him first," I said, opening up my med kit and pulling out some latex gloves before starting my ceremonial speech that I'm required to give before examining a patient, "Now, for the privacy and safety of Mr. Holland's medical information, I must ask you two to leave the room—"

"We gotcha, Y/N," James said, smiling. "I'm in 1104. Knock if you need anything or just whenever you're done. You're the best there is."

"I know," I jokingly said in a cocky manner, drawing a slight chuckle from both of the men. A small groan from Tom brought me back to the matter at hand. I waited until Harrison and James had left the room before kneeling down by Tom's side, pushing his hair back from over his eyes. I could feel his fever through my gloves.

"Hey, Tom," I softly said, and he turned to look at me with pained eyes, "what's up, bud? Talk to me."

I couldn't help but talk to my sick patients like they were children. Tom was no exception, despite him being a solid one to two years older than me. People who were ill just exhibited this sort of helplessness that reminded me of a child.

"I-I have no idea. I felt sick after dinner so I came up to lay down and it all just got so bad so quickly," he weakly said, his voice trembling. I frowned. He sounded just about as bad as he looked. "I feel like I'm going to die, Y/N."

"Okay, well here's one diagnosis I can make right off the bat: you're not going to die. Let me take your temperature, and then after that why don't you tell me what you had for dinner," I said, forcing the thermometer into his mouth. His breathing was shaky, which did worry me a little bit. The thermometer beeped, and I removed it from his mouth.

"I just had a hamburger and some chips and it wasn't bad foo—"

He stopped to start retching over the trash can. I turned away to not only give him privacy, but to avoid the inevitable sight of vomit for as long as possible. I shuddered when I looked at the thermometer.

"Yeesh, yeah food poisoning doesn't usually come with a 103 temperature. I'm gonna monitor your temperature tonight and if this gets any worse we may have to take you to the hospital, Tom. Just to get you some medicine and maybe an IV," I told him truthfully. I didn't want to take him to the hospital, but a 103 fever was worse than I was expecting. I felt bad to say that at first I thought he may have been acting a little dramatic, but I now saw that he really was very, very sick.

"What? I don't want an IV," he said, voice coarse from the vomit. I quickly got him a glass of water.

"I know, but you're losing a lot of fluid that you can't seem to replace because you can't keep it down. And with a fever this high, pretty much everything in your body is going to be a little thrown off. But we'll keep an eye on you," I said, feeling his forehead again. He looked at me with a face so pained it almost broke my professional wall down. I wanted to cry for him, to take this pain away from him.

"Open up for me," I said after reaching into my bag for a tongue depressor and light, wanting to check his throat for an infection. I should have been smarter, though. The moment I pressed down on his tongue with the depressor, it triggered his gag reflex and my hands were covered in sick. I couldn't help but freeze for a moment. Tom gasped.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to, oh, God I'm so gross—"

"Tom, it's my job. I've seen grosser. You're lucky I like you," I joked, although he was too weak to respond. I changed my gloves and blotted up the vomit that had missed my hands and hit the couch. "Besides, I chose to use a tongue depressor on a patient who has been vomiting nonstop since dinner. We'll try again with just the light, okay? Really open wide."

I saw nothing. No spots, no swollen tonsils, nothing. I was beginning to get frustrated with myself. Why couldn't I figure out what was wrong with him?

"Gosh, what happened to you, Tom?" I asked, more rhetorically than anything. He did not like that question.

"I, I don't know what happened, I don't know," he weakly cried, his breaths becoming labored, "I feel horrible. I'm going to die. I won't even be able to film tomorrow."

"Whoa, hey, Tom, it's okay," I sweetly said, putting my frustrations aside. I pushed his shoulder back to lay him down again, tilting his chin up so that he can get more air. "You're gonna be okay. I know that for a fact. I just can't figure out specifics right now, that's all. And filming should be the least of your worries, okay? We'll wait for you to get better."

He responded to my mini-speech by turning and vomiting into the trash can. I sighed, sitting up on the couch next to him and rubbing his back while he hurled. He groaned in pain after each retch, and it broke my heart. He finally finished, laying his head back up against the couch armrest, eyes clenched shut.

"Tom, I think you should get some sleep. I'm not going to give you Tylenol because I want to monitor that fever. I do have some Zofran that I will give to you so that you're not up all night vomiting. I'll be in every two hours tonight with this little guy to take your temperature," I said, showing him my temporal artery thermometer, which allowed me to take his temperature in a non-invasive manner by simply swiping it across his forehead. "You shouldn't even wake up."

"Wait, but you need sleep," he said, sitting up slightly.

"Tom, don't worry about me. I'll get enough sleep. Now, take this," I said, handing him the pill and the water glass from the credenza at the foot of the couch. He quickly downed the pill, gagging slightly. "Is there anything else you want me to do for you before I let you sleep?"

"Can you help me get to the bathroom?" he sheepishly asked. "I just want to brush my teeth and rinse off really quick."

"Of course, Tom, that's a good idea," I said, extending my hand to help him up. He took it, weakly standing in a Bambi-esque manner before I put my arm around his torso to support him. I used my other hand to push his long, sloppy curls out of his eyes. "I think Peter Parker is overdue for a haircut."

He weakly smiled, touching his hair before letting his arm fall on my shoulder. He leaned into me and began to take some small steps.

"It's okay, you got it. Go slow," I encouraged him. I could feel his body shaking from the fever. I reminded myself to take another shower when I got back to my room.

Once we got to the bathroom, he grabbed onto the door frame for support. I felt wary about leaving him in there by himself.

"Are you sure you're okay? I can go grab Harrison and he can come help you," I said. He shook his head, opening the door and walking in more steadily than he just had been.

"No, I'm okay," he said. I bit my lip.

"Okay, well I'll be out here if you need anything," I said. He nodded and smiled, before closing the door.

I figured I would change the bag in the trash can while he was getting ready for bed. An unpleasant task, yes, but I was the one who needed to do it. I held my breath as I pulled the bag out, tied it up, and quickly walked it to the garbage chute at the end of the hall. Poor garbage men.

I cringed when I re-entered the room and heard dry heaving noises from the bathroom. Clearly the Zofran had kicked in, but his stomach was still disagreeing with him. I frowned.

"Tom, you okay?" I asked through the door. I heard him cough weakly.

"Yeah," he uttered, voice shaking. I sighed. I knew I had signed up for a night of no sleep, but now I was unsure of how much sleep Tom would get.

I grabbed a new trash bag from the cupboard and placed it into the trash can, relieved at how much better the smell was. By the time I had finished scrubbing the remaining dried vomit out of the couch, Tom had re-entered the room. I quickly walked over to him, placing my arm around him.

"Bed or couch?" I asked.

"Couch," he weakly responded, nodding his head in the direction of the couch. I walked him over there and laid him down, moving the trash can back by his head and placing a glass of water on the side table nearest him.

"Okay, Tom. I'm gonna let you sleep. If you need anything at all, tell someone. You have James next door, Harrison down the hall, and you have my number. If you feel worse, or like you need to go to the hospital, call me. I'll also be in every two hours, though, so if you're awake and need something you can tell me then, too, okay?" I said, looking him straight in the eye and making sure he really understood this. He gave me an almost mischievous grin.

"Y/N, are you worried about me?" he joked. I was taken aback by his sudden sense of humor in this miserable situation, but I quickly smiled.

"Never. You're Spider-Man, you can handle anything," I sweetly said, rubbing his shoulder before collecting my things and standing up. "Goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

I shut the door and sighed, placing my forehead against the cold wood. Maybe I should have just taken him to the hospital. I had no idea what was going to happen to him. But, his mom would be there tomorrow and I would have more information on his health, so maybe it would be easier to make a decision then. I went next door to James's room, knocking lightly. It was almost 1 am, I was almost certain that he would be asleep and that Harrison would be gone. But I was wrong. The two both appeared in the doorway when they answered, looking at me anxiously. I gave them a small smile so as to not stress them out.

"He's absolutely miserable. 103 fever. He told me twice that he was going to die. But, I gave him some medicine and I'm going to monitor his temperature tonight. As far as the hospital, I don't really think it's very necessary right now, but we'll play by ear and see how tonight goes and how he feels tomorrow after sleeping," I said. The two nodded. "Also, I have all three of us on call for him tonight, so be aware of that."

"Y/N, you're a miracle worker," Harrison said, shaking his head. I laughed slightly. I really didn't feel like a miracle worker right now. I feel that if I were a miracle worker, Tom would be feeling better right now. Instead, he's going to be dry heaving all night with a 103 fever.

"I try my best. I'm heading down to my room, but I'll be back throughout the night to watch his temperature. If he comes to either of you, or if something else happens, let me know," I said. The two nodded kindly at me.

"Thank you. Goodnight, Y/N," James responded.

"Goodnight."

•  
3 am. 103 fever.

5 am. 102 fever. Vomit in the trash can.

7 am. 102 fever.

9 am. 101 fever.

•

This was it, I thought to myself at 9 in the morning. His fever was going down, he'd only thrown up once in the night, it was just a stomach bug that he was able to sleep off. I trudged back up to my room, hoping that I could finally sleep for more than two hours at a time. Since we weren't filming today anymore, I could just sleep the day away.

Except I couldn't, because I only slept until about 9:45 when I got a call from James. I immediately sat up in bed and answered, my hands trembling.

"H-hello?" I nervously asked.

"Yeah, Y/N, we need you down here. We've got Tom practically screaming in pain, and he has absolutely no color whatsoever," he said, and I could hear the concern in his voice. I also cringed when I heard Tom's groans of pain in the background, louder and more intense than what I'd heard the previous night.

"Oh my god, okay, I'm coming," I said, starting to actually panic. I became angry with myself for so quickly dismissing him. I grabbed my med kit, still put together from last night, and quite literally sprinted to the staircase, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

I've never moved so quickly in my life. I skipped stairs for four flights and wasn't even winded when I reached the top because of the absolute adrenaline rush I was experiencing. I swung open the door to Tom's room, pushing past James and Harrison and kneeling down by Tom's side.

"Hey, hey, Tom, talk to me, what's changed in the past 45 minutes?" I asked, putting my hand on the side of his head. His breathing was more labored than ever, and he looked genuinely pained. It broke my heart.

"I'm dying, oh my god I'm dying, I, I can't," he cried, putting his hands over his face before quickly removing them to punch the side of the couch. It was getting harder and harder not to panic.

"Okay, relax for me, Tom, let me take your temperature," I said, pulling out my thermometer and swiping it across his forehead. "Relax, relax."

"Oh my god," I said when I looked at the thermometer, feeling sick to my stomach now, "105." I turned to James and Harrison, who had been behind me watching the drama unfold. "We need to get him to the hospital, now."

James nodded, briskly walking out of the room to get his keys, I assume. Harrison looked worried, but I didn't bother comforting him this time. This situation was rapidly getting worse.

"What? I don't want to go to the hospital. I, I'm not going," Tom said, and I put on my stern doctor face.

"You're going, Tom. You have to," I said, packing up my stuff. He looked like he was going to freak out again.

"Can we wait for my mum to get here?" he quietly asked instead. I immediately felt so sad for him, but was still skeptical about waiting for her.

"How far away is she?" I asked. "We might be able to make it work."

"20 minutes, she's in a taxi from the airport right now," Harrison responded, looking at his phone. I assumed he was the one in contact with her.

"Okay, we can do that," I said, walking into the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth, soaking it with cold water. I placed it over Tom's forehead despite his groans. James came in with his keys and coat, appearing ready to leave.

"We're going to wait for his mom to come, then we're going. She's almost here," I explained, and he nodded.

"That actually works out good, because if we're actually going to the hospital I have a few people to notify and information to get," he said. I nodded at him, and he left to go do so.

The following twenty minutes were the slowest of my life, but after a lot of vomit, groaning, and complaining, Harrison finally received a text that she was at the hotel. Tom seemed to perk up a little, but not much.

"We'll be back. Do not take that towel off," I warned him, following Harrison's lead into the hallway. Tom simply groaned in response as I shut the door.

We hurried down the the lobby, where I saw a woman sitting on a bench with a suitcase, whom I assumed was Tom's mother. She looked worried, yet kind, and was very happy to see Harrison.

"Haz, love, are you well?" she asked, pulling him into a hug.

"Of course, Nikki, and yourself?" Harrison responded.

"Good as I can be, I suppose," she sighed, and I felt bad. This must be stressful for her. She looked at me and smiled. "Hello. I'm Tom's mum, Nikki."

"So nice to meet you, I'm Y/N. I'm the medic that's been taking care of Tom," I said, reaching out to shake her hand.

"Ah, so you've been playing Mummy for me while I'm gone, yeah?" she joked, laughing slightly. "Bless your heart. How is he now?"

"Well," I started, wondering how to delicately put this so that she wouldn't stress, "We were debating for the longest time whether or not we should take him to the hospital, but we decided to just watch him overnight. He was getting a lot better, his fever went down and he only threw up once. But, he did have a bit of a flare up this morning, so we are going to take him to the hospital here soon. He just wanted to wait for you to get here."

Her kind, motherly manner seemed to melt into a more stressed, worried one. I felt bad, but I had to tell her what was going on. Harrison put his arm around her.

"He rang last night, and boy did he give his father and I a scare. He had us convinced he was dying," she said, shaking her head. I smiled kindly.

"He tried to convince us all that he was dying, himself included. He's going to be okay, but the problem is just a little bit out of my hands if we're here and not at the hospital," I explained. She smiled and nodded. "Let's go get him now."

Tom threw the towel off his head when we came in, sitting up so quickly I thought he was going to pass out. I was beyond stunned, however, to see tears in his eyes.

"Mum?" he said, his voice breaking. I let Nikki pass by me to go sit by her son, and he immediately broke down. 

"Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry you're sick," she softly said, sitting at his side where I sat yesterday while he threw up. Sobs wracked his body as he leaned his head up against Nikki, his face redder than it was with his 105 fever. I felt physical pain in my chest watching him cry to his mom. Between watching the always uplifting, positive Tom falling apart into tears, something that I have never seen in almost a year of knowing him, and missing my own mother who lived 8 hours away in my Ohio hometown, I couldn't bear to watch.

I turned away as a few tears slid down my own cheeks. I distracted myself by rummaging through my med kit, the noise muffling the small gasps and sniffles coming from me. I tried to stop; I knew it wasn't my place to be emotional right now, but I couldn't help it. I was sleep deprived and I'd spent all night having to worry about Tom, my friend, but not let it show; I was completely drained. I felt Harrison put his arm around me and walk me out into the hallway.

"That was hard to watch," I stated obviously, quickly wiping away the remaining tears, my breathing still hitched, "I've never seen him like that, and, and... it's just been a long day. Night. Whatever."

Harrison laughed slightly, rubbing my back a little. He wasn't crying, but I could tell he was upset and worried for his friend.

"The last stretch of filming is always hard for Tom. He gets so homesick, and I'm sure being actually sick made it much, much worse. I bet seeing his mum helped," he said.

"I had no idea he went through that. I mean, I get homesick too, and my schedule isn't even as rigorous as his. I just," I stopped, feeling tears in my eyes again, "I don't know how to help him right now. I feel like a useless medic. And it's stupid, because he's the one with the 105 fever and yet I'm crying."

"You have an extremely kind heart, Y/N. For what it's worth, he is definitely crying too. And I know you want to help, but you're doing your best. You can't just make his sickness go away instantly," Harrison said. I smiled at him, desperately trying to stop more tears from falling.

"Thanks, Harrison. We really need to get him to the hospital, though. Can you call James and tell him to get the car ready? I'll get Tom and we can meet in the lobby," I said, finally stabilizing my emotions. Harrison nodded, pulling his phone out. I headed towards the door, taking a deep breath.

"Hospital time, Tommy boy," I said, opening the door. Tom was hunched over the trash can again, his mom running her fingers through his hair. I grabbed a few trash bags from the same cupboard I'd retrieved them from last time, handing them to Nikki. She smiled at me and put them in her purse. "You ready?"

He weakly nodded. I extended my arm out to him, and his mom helped him stand up. I placed my arm around his torso on the other side. We took a few steps before he stopped, closing his eyes. I opened up a trash bag that was sitting on the counter for him, although he waved it away.

"Do you need the toilet before we go, love?" Nikki asked, and I knew Tom's cheeks weren't red from the fever anymore. I stifled a giggle.

"Mum, stop," he grumbled. Nikki looked at me and winked, and I smiled back at her. After we managed to make it through the elevator without Tom hurling, we met Harrison in the lobby. He helped Tom sit on the couch by the doorway, sitting down next to him.

"James is pulling the car up in just a second," he told me, before turning his head towards Tom. "Don't go dying on me, mate."

Tom laughed more than I'd seen him do in the past 12 hours, laying his head on Harrison's shoulder. I placed my hand over my chest, aweing at the precious sight. Nikki came up beside me.

"They really are best mates for life," she said, smiling at them. I turned to her and nodded.

"I absolutely love being around them on set. They're so fun and sweet," I told her, and it was the truth. Those two boys were my most favorite to work with.

"How have you been holding up with all this, love? Tom told me you were up all night watching his fever. I have to admit, you played more than the role of Mummy with that one. He's a bit dramatic, yeah?" she said, laughing slightly. I smiled sadly.

"It's all part of the job. The hardest part was seeing Tom be so miserable, though. He's usually so sweet and positive, and just a really good guy. You did a good job," I complimented her. She smiled, but not for long, as James entered the lobby, ready to get Tom. I ran over to him, and, along with Harrison, helped him get up off the bench. Nikki followed closely, as we got him to the car. We placed Tom in the middle, with Nikki and I on either side, and Harrison up front.

The drive wasn't long, but Tom starting to throw up 3 minutes into the drive made it feel ten times longer. Nikki and I miserably sat, each holding one side of a garbage bag for him. James tried to discreetly open the windows to help with the smell. I knew Tom felt bad, and by no means was I blaming him. The situation was just unfortunate. A sense of relief washed over everyone when we arrived at the emergency room.

We rushed Tom in, Nikki and I going to the front desk to answer any questions and fill out the paperwork. We waited for a relatively short period before they called Tom back. We sent Nikki back with him, while Harrison, James and I stayed in the waiting room until further notice. I tried and tried to stay awake in case something happened, but the approximately 4 hours of sleep I've gotten in the past 24 hours sent me into a brief nap.

Or at least I thought it was brief. Because when I woke up, Tom had been with an IV for an hour and already started on antibiotics.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?!" I exclaimed louder than I'd intended, sitting up in the chair that suddenly became very uncomfortable. Harrison smiled down at me.

"You looked so peaceful, and I know you didn't sleep for shit last night," he said helping me up, "but he is cleared for visitors, and we do want to get back to the hotel soon. Nikki's going to stay here with Tom, and he should be discharged by 18:00. Or, 6, sorry. American."

I smiled at his joke, but immediately jumped out of my chair and rushed towards Tom's room. I've never had relief wash over me as much as it did when I walked into that room and saw Tom sitting upright, color returned to his skin, a smile on his face. I ran over to him and gave him the best hug I could despite the awkward positioning of the hospital bed.

"Oh my God, Tom, you look so much better," I exclaimed, feeling like I was about to cry. He laughed, swaying me back and forth slightly.

"I feel loads better. I'm so sorry for putting you through all that trouble, Y/N. You did an amazing job, and I'm so, so grateful that you were there, because if you weren't--"

"It's okay, Tom. Moments like this are why I love my job and what I do, it makes the rough parts like last night so worth it," I said, and that was the truth. Last night was so, so draining, but what I was experiencing right in that moment was why I entered the medical field and why I loved it so much. "Besides, now you can see what I told you from the start: you're going to be okay."

**Author's Note:**

> lol i told you there was no distinct plot  
> also the ending was cheesy  
> anyways i might continue this storyline later and try to establish a relationship between tom and the reader so if u wanna see that shit let me know


End file.
